


That’s just the way you make me feel

by misskraken



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bottom Tony Stark, Closet Sex, Dorks in Love, Established Relationship, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Married Couple, Married Sex, Teasing, Texting, Top Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-18
Updated: 2019-06-18
Packaged: 2020-05-13 23:40:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,151
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19261510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskraken/pseuds/misskraken
Summary: Then, five feet in front of him, like an oasis in a desert, Tony sees it: the door to the supply closet.Now there’s a thought





	That’s just the way you make me feel

Steve has been staring at Tony since the beginning of dinner. 

Normally, Steve is in full Cap mode at these types of events. The Bi-Annual Charity Banquet at Avengers HQ should have been no different. Any other time, Steve would’ve had full command of the table, charming filthy rich octogenarians and freshly scrubbed starlets alike with his dry humor and crooked smile.

But tonight he’s all but silent, gazing at Tony as if he’s the most beautiful thing on earth. 

Tony gets out his phone and shoots Steve a message.

*if you don’t stop looking at me like you’re five seconds away from taking my pants off, I’m going to throw this glass of vino at you like a real housewife of LA*

Steve sees the message and smiles down at the phone in his lap. His fingers dance across the screen, and Tony’s phone buzzes a few seconds later:

*you’re wearing the tie*

Ah, that.

It had all started as a joke, and in Tony’s opinion, it hadn’t even been a very good one. Two nights ago, they’d celebrated their second anniversary as a married couple. Steve hadn’t been due to arrive home from his mission until late that night, so Tony had taken advantage of his ample time alone to begin cooking their dinner and putting flowers on the table. About thirty minutes after Steve’s hellicarrier landed, Tony suddenly was suddenly reminded of a scene from Pretty Woman, one of the first movies the two of them had watched together as a couple. In the scene, Julia Roberts greets Richard Gere at the dinner table when he arrives back at their hotel wearing nothing but one of his ties. 

Oh what the hell, Tony had thought. 

In the end, Tony had ended up wearing the ridiculous bald eagle-patterned tie that he’d bought Steve from a boardwalk kiosk as a gag gift on their honeymoon. When Tony had finished disrobing and arranging himself at the table, the vastness of his dumbassery had hit him with the force of a speeding rhinoceros. However, as soon as Tony had bent over to reach for his pants, the penthouse security system announced the opening of the front door.

Tony had sighed and resigned himself to his impending humiliation. 

“Tony?” Steve called out from the landing.

In spite of his ridiculous predicament, Tony’s heart warmed at the sound of his husband’s voice. Steve was home, safe and sound, and that was all that mattered. He’d no doubt bust a capillary laughing his ass off at Tony, but Tony knew that Steve would be able to see the love in his attempt at humor, and they’d be able to have a wonderful dinner together.

“In here,” Tony called, propping his knees on the corner of the table. 

“Jesus Christ,” Steve said, his voice growing louder as he approached the kitchen. “Something smells amazing. What did-“

When Steve rounded the corner, he froze, his sunny smile transformed into a look of blank shock.

“How was your day, dear?” Tony said, fighting to keep his voice nonchalant.

He waited for Steve to laugh, or to roll his eyes. But he just stood there, his expression completely and utterly unreadable.

The bottom of Tony’s stomach dropped out. He’d been expecting laughter, exasperation, but he hadn’t considered that Steve might actually be offended. Or worse, disgusted. What had been sexy and winsome on one incandescently beautiful late-eighties Julia Roberts was decidedly less so on a middle-aged man with silver in his hair and a slight softness in his middle that had only increased over the past few years. 

Maybe Steve was finally realizing just how beneath his league he’d married.

Tony’s face burned as he crossed his legs to cover his groin.

“I know, I know,” Tony said, avoiding Steve’s eyes. “But hey, I cooked-“

Steve crossed the room so quickly that Tony nearly registered the motion. He hauled Tony to his feet at slightly under the speed of sound, so fast that Tony collapsed forward against Steve.

Beneath the thick material of Steve’s stealth suit, he was rock hard.

Steve cupped Tony’s face in his massive hands, and Tony’s mouth suddenly ran dry at the look on Steve’s face. Tony opened his mouth, to say what exactly he wasn’t sure, but Steve crushed their mouths together before Tony could even begin to find the words. Tony could only flail his arms helplessly. It was like being kissed by a hurricane. Steve was everywhere, it seemed, hands traveling over Tony’s body and clutching greedy handfuls in their wake. Steve curled his fist in the hair at the nape of Tony’s neck and pulled back, kissing the exposed the column of Tony’s throat. When Steve’s lips and teeth found that little place just above Tony’s Adam’s apple, Tony felt as if he’d been set on fire.

“Bedroom,” Steve growled against the underside of Tony’s jaw. “Now.”

“I made dinner,” Tony said faintly. Not that he cared. Jesus fuck, there was nothing he cared less about right now than dinner.

“Dinner’s right here,” Steve said, squeezing Tony’s ass with both hands before hoisting him over his shoulder and carrying him to their bedroom, “and I’m fucking starving.

Tony shakes himself out of the memory. He really didn’t need to be thinking about the best sex of his and Tony’s relationship, maybe even Tony’s entire life. It had lasted the whole night, the two of them taking only a short break around two in the morning to wrap their abandoned dinner up and put it in the fridge. They’d eaten it for breakfast the next morning, Tony perched on Steve’s lap in their living room as they ate.

And Steve has had that stupid, horny, lovestruck look on his face ever since.

Okay, Tony has to admit that he really had no excuse for wearing the tie out in public.

“It was clean,” Tony whispers out of the corner of his mouth. “I was just feeling patriotic tonight.”

Steve just grins and types something on his phone. Tony’s vibrates a few moments later.

*I just can’t stop thinking about it, you know? God, it’s fucking heaven down there. All tight and hot and soft as velvet. Don’t see how I manage to get anything done around the house without bending you over and-*

The tiny, strangled moan escapes Tony before he can stop it. Fortunately, no one seated near him at the table seems to notice.

Well, almost no one.

“Is everything alright, Mr. Stark?”

Tony looks up and sees King T’Challa looking at him, concern in his warm brown eyes. As usual, T’Challa is resplendent, regal as ever in his black and silver attire. It’s not every day that T’Challa has the time to show up to events like this, and his presence is an honor. Tony tries to calm his breathing in an attempt to stave off the blush that is no doubt spreading across his neck and face like wildfire.

“I’m great,” Tony says faintly, unconvincing in his own ears. T’Challa’s forehead wrinkles in disbelief.

“Are you certain?” T’Challa asks, a slight tilt to his head. “You look a little red.”

God damn it.

“He’s fine,” Steve says smoothly, leaning forward and fixing T’Challa with his most dazzling smile. “He just accidentally ate a little feta cheese at the beginning of salad course.” Steve shakes his head mournfully. Beneath the table, his hand settles on Tony’s thigh. “Lactose intolerance. What can you do, you know?”

T’Challa’s nose wrinkles slightly, but he nods kindly and turns away, mollified.

His companion, however, does not appear to be nearly as convinced.

Tony isn’t really sure what connection the tall, devastatingly handsome man in fur-lined regalia has to T’Challa. The king introduced the man as M’Baku, Leader of Wakanda’s Jabari tribe. T’Challa rarely brings anyone beyond the Dora Milaje and his sister to social events at Avengers HQ, much less fellow dignitaries, but the easy, comfortable way the two of them interact suggests that they are very good friends.

M’Baku’s sharp eyes flick to Tony, and then to Steve, clearly not believing a word Steve says. In the end, however, M’Baku must decide that the two of them are not worth the effort of probing, for he only raises his eyebrows and tucks back into the vegan strawberry cheesecake on his plate.

On Tony’s lap, his phone is buzzing non-stop.

*think I’m gonna take you in front of the mirror next time. Just sit you on my lap so I can watch you bounce up and down on my dick and watch your face as you come. God, you’ve got the most gorgeous O face. Like some kind of fucking angel.*

*Or maybe I’ll just flip you on your belly and fuck you into the mattress. Nothing better than feeling your ass shake when I’m deep in it. Maybe I’ll have you stick it up in the air when I’m done too, just so I can bury my face in it and just suck out every last drop of my-*

Tony pushes away from the table so abruptly that it draws the eye from everyone around them. He stands up and presses his pelvis against the back of the chair as he pushes it back in in order to mask the glaring tent of his pants.

“You good, Stark?” Carol asks.

“Fine,” Tony says, waving a hand vaguely. “Just need some air.”

He all but runs out of the dining hall. His skin is on fire, and the walls feel as if they’re closing in around. Only when he’s out in the empty hallway does he feel like he can breathe. Finally alone, he presses a hand against the wall to steady himself.

He’s never been this turned on before in his life.

Sure, public teasing is hardly the most raunchy thing Tony’s ever gotten up to at a formal event (he’s Tony Stark, for God’s sake). But everything feels different with Steve. Steve could do nothing in the bedroom but make basic, missionary-position love to Tony for the rest of their lives, and Tony would be more than satisfied.

Because, though Tony still scratches head at the miracle of it, Steve loves Tony, wholly and truly. Loves Tony’s 5’8 stature and his not-quite-flat stomach and his scarred-up chest and his sharp tongue. Tony is just now getting used to the way Steve looks at him during sex, over breakfast, while curled up watching tv. He remembers one afternoon in the grocery store when Steve came up behind Tony while he was reading the back of a box of oatmeal and just wrapped his arms around him, holding Tony close and dropping a kiss to the top of his head. Tony almost broke in half. Every day, it’s like this. Steve looks at Tony as if he can’t believe Tony is his, and Tony has to fight the urge to tell Steve to knock it off every time. Because it’s Tony who should be on his knees thanking whatever’s up there that Steve, gorgeous, kind, valiant Steve, is his. But Steve has always been too stubborn to allow Tony to fall back into his old self-deprecating habits for too long, and he’s made it his personal mission to convince Tony how much he loves him, how much Tony deserves this love, kiss by kiss, touch by touch, look by look.

Tony doesn’t know if he’ll ever believe he’s worthy of Steve, but what Tony does know is that he loves Steve Rogers with all his heart. He always has, and he always will.

Behind him, Tony hears the clipping of someone’s dress shoes approaching.

“Tony! Tony, are you alright?”

The concern in Steve’s voice sends a wave of renewed love and lust through him. Tony needs Steve like a beached fish needs the ocean. Needs Steve, big and naked, hulking over him. But how? They can’t just leave the banquet, at least not for good. 

Then, five feet in front of him, like an oasis in a desert, Tony sees it: the door to the supply closet.

Now there’s a thought.

“Tony,” Steve says, coming to stand in front of him. Tony looks up at Steve’s worried face, and his heart skips a beat.

“I’m sorry, alright?” Steve says. “I overstepped. I didn’t know that-“

Tony grabs Steve by the lapels of his suit and pulls him down to his level, their mouths colliding in a kiss. Steve is startled for just a moment, and then he’s melting against Tony’s, the kiss suddenly wet and open-mouthed. 

“Get in here,” Tony whispers against Steve’s lips as he pulls him into the dark closet.

When the door shuts, Steve and Tony fall back against it, kissing each other so deeply that Tony’s afraid his heart might give out. He frees his left hand and gropes for the light switch. He finds it, and suddenly the tiny space is flooded with light. Steve blinks against the sudden brightness, and the two of them cease their kissing, staring at each other. 

Steve is beautiful. Not handsome— beautiful. And he’s all Tony’s.

Steve takes Tony’s hand and leads him to the back of the closet, past the shelves of cleaning supplies and the mops propped up against them. Steve presses Tony to the wall, and Tony groans as feels Steve’s erection against his belly.

“I need you,” Tony says, his voice breaking when Steve bends to kiss his neck.

“I know, baby,” Steve murmurs, his lips leaving a burning trail from Tony’s clavicle to the shell of his ear. “But we gotta be quick. How do you want it?”

Tony shows him, and Steve smiles against Tony’s mouth as he reaches for Tony’s belt.

They make quick work of their clothes, jackets and shirts and ties falling to the floor like autumn leaves. When the two of them are finally, blessedly naked, Tony’s brain practically short-circuits as he takes in the site of Steve’s body beneath the warm, dim glow of the closet lights. Tony will never get used the the dips and swells of Steve’s body, his massive arms and shoulders tapering to his slim, hard waist. 

His dick isn’t half bad either.

Steve reaches for Tony, and for a moment, they just touch each other, drinking the moment in. Steve runs his hands from Tony’s hips to his chest to the sides of his face, his thumbs gently caressing the corners of Tony’s mouth. Tony takes Steve’s right hand and presses a kiss to the pads of his fingers, the gesture soft and intimate. 

“Look at you,” Steve says softly, his eyes soft. “How’d I get so lucky, huh?”

Tony just raises an eyebrow and, in one fluid motion, takes Steve’s first two fingers into his mouth, his tongue laving over the space between them.

Steve groans and spins Tony around, pressing him against the wall. The wall is cool against Tony’s face, but Steve’s breath is hot against his shoulder. When Steve presses himself flush against Tony’s back, the swell of his chest filling in the curve, Tony moans loud enough to alert the whole goddamn building at the feeling of Steve’s dick, thick and heavy against cleft of his ass. Steve claps a hand over Tony’s mouth and pulls him close.

“Shh.” Steve presses a kiss behind the hinge of Tony’s jaw. “Honey, shh.”

Steve fucks Tony likes it’s his last night on Earth, hard and fast and hitting just the right spot each time. His teeth sink into the muscle of Tony’s shoulder, moaning bittern-off curses against his skin. Tony rises up on the balls of his feet, his toes curling as he forces himself not to scream in ecstasy. Tony comes first, trying to catch his semen in his hands to prevent it from splashing the wall, and Steve follows almost immediately after. He manages to pull out just in time, spilling all over Tony’s lower back. 

For a second, Tony just slumps against the wall, trying to remember how to speak. Behind him, Steve sinks to his knees and presses his tongue to the mess on Tony’s back, lapping it up. Then he turns Tony around and takes hold of his forearms, holding up his spunk-covered hands to his face. Steve licks those clean too, grinning at Tony’s face as he finishes the final drop. Steve leans down for a kiss, and Tony tastes himself on Steve’s tongue.

“Hit the spot?” Steve asks.

Tony laughs shakily.

“I’d say-“

They hear the voices too late to do anything about it. Suddenly the door swings open, and two figures slip in, tangled in each other’s limbs, the larger one slamming the smaller one against the wall before kissing him, all tongue and teeth and choked-off moans.

Strange. Tony always pegged T’Challa for a ladies man, but when M’Baku kisses T’Challa’s throat and murmurs something in Xhosa, causing the king to let out a decidedly un-regal giggle, Tony thinks he may have (possibly) miscalculated.

Tony and Steve are partially concealed by the wire shelves, and both T’Challa and M’Baku currently have their eyes shut, but they’re bound to notice eventually.

“Bonjour,” Tony says.

T’Challa and M’Baku immediately pull away, and T’Challa throws himself in front of M’Baku to shield him from any potential threat, his suit materializing over his skin in a heartbeat. When he sees Tony and Steve, however, his expression changes from that of a god-blessed warrior to that of a hyperactive ten-year-old who’s just been caught helping himself to a fifth slice of birthday cake.

For a moment, the four of them just stare at each other, none of them moving a muscle. The situation is almost too surreal for Tony to be embarrassed. Sure, being caught naked with his husband in the supply closet of Avengers HQ by the king of Wakanda and his boyfriend, who were presumably about to do the same thing, might throw a few people for a loop.

But hey, he’s Tony Stark.

“Not that I don’t love your company, Your Majesty,” Tony says finally, “but there’s a much bigger supply closet on floor two that I think you both would enjoy a lot more.” He juts his chin towards M’Baku. “Lots of leg room for Brienne of Tarth over there.”

M’Baku’s eyes narrow. “Brienne of who-“

“Much obliged,” T’Challa says quickly, and then he’s hustling M’Baku out of the closet with an inhuman speed that only someone extremely embarrassed and impossibly horny can muster. The door shuts behind them, and Steve and Tony dissolve into hysterical laughter. When they finally recover, Tony looks at Steve, still flushed from sex, eyes almost as bright as his smile, and a single solitary truth splits Tony’s heart in two. Not an unfamiliar one, but one that fills Tony with such extreme joy he wants to shout it from the top of Avengers HQ.

He fucking loves Steve Rogers.


End file.
